Maple Sugar
by p0ck3tf0x
Summary: Canada stood in the clearing with the fiddle tucked delicately under his chin; his eyelashes fluttering with each note and his foot stamping in beat.  One shot.


_Summary: __Canada stood in the clearing with the fiddle tucked delicately under his chin; his eyelashes fluttering with each note and his foot stamping in beat. There was a rare, tranquil smile gracing the lips of the normally nervous nation and Prussia thought that he was wonderful._

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

**Maple Sugar**

Prussia approached the cottage with his hands pressed into his pockets and numb with the cold. His riding boots crunched in the fresh snow and the sound echoed through the trees surrounding the property. His nose was bright red against his pale skin and dribbling, so he buried his face into the scarf wrapped tightly over his neck and shoulders. The wool trapped his warm breath and frosted the woven threads.

Prussia followed the hum of strings floating through the air in unsteady, crooked rhythm. The sound carried easily over the frozen winter landscape and sparkling snow.

He stalked alongside the cottage as quietly as possible with snow crunching under his heels. He slipped around the edge to find a youth standing thigh high in snowflakes; dragging a bow across the strings of a worn, wooden fiddle.

Sunbeams glittered over the scene and painted the youth in warmth and sunshine despite the weather. The azure sky stood starkly against the blanket of white draping evergreens, fence posts, and a lopsided wooden barn. Canada stood in the clearing with the fiddle tucked delicately under his chin; his eyelashes fluttering with each note and his foot stamping in beat.

There was a rare, tranquil smile gracing the lips of the normally nervous nation.

For a moment, Prussia ignored the chill and watched in awe as Canada lost himself in the music. The buttons of his jacket were threaded through the wrong buttonholes, and in some places, missing entirely. There was a dreadful orange and blue knitted 'toque' with earflaps and a raggedy pompom perched haphazardly over his blonde curls. His glasses misted over with each little gasp of breath. His cheeks were flushed, along with the tip of his nose, and his fingers plucking the strings were chapped and cerise in the cold; bare without mittens in order to play the instrument.

Canada brought serenity to seeming chaos as he plucked a tune to an uneven metre of 'one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three-four-five, one-two'. Perhaps Austria would be bewildered by the odd, cheerful melodies that were anything but classical music, but Prussia thought that it was wonderful.

He thought that Canada was wonderful.

Prussia listened patiently as the cold seeped through his jacket while Canada tickled notes from the instrument and wove them into songs.

At last, Canada dragged the bow slowly over the strings in a long quivering note to signal the end of a song that sounded vaguely familiar and comforting despite its lively beat. A sighing breath escaped his lips and drifted through the air.

Prussia grinned and entertained the idea of letting Canada continue, but it was damn cold and he could no longer feel his toes.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Prussia suddenly demanded, and had to stifle a giggle when Canada jumped in surprise and fell backwards in perfect comedic timing.

"Oh!"

Prussia stepped forward and peered into the depression in the snow, where the youth lay covering his blushing cheeks with both of his hands in embarrassment. He had somehow protected the fiddle by cocooning it in his jacket and out of harm's way.

"You alright?" Prussia grinned. Canada peeked bashfully from between his fingers.

"Gilbert. I wasn't expecting you."

"No shit." Prussia held out a hand and Canada hesitated a moment before placing his hand in the other. Prussia tugged him forward a little too enthusiastically and Canada stumbled into his chest, his other hand cradling the fiddle protectively. Canada stuttered and flushed and tried to push away, nearly tumbling again, but Prussia wrapped an arm around him and held him close.

"Gilbert… What are _you_ doing out here?" Canada asked quietly as he earnestly avoided eye contact; looking everywhere except at Prussia.

"Hmmm?"

"Nevermind…"

The smile spread across his face as he watched Canada fidget against his chest in nervous, flustered energy. He was sweet, but Prussia had long since found that it was impossible to try and compliment Canada. He would vehemently deny any kind word or flattery. He was humble to a fault and it drove Prussia mad, but it was just another reason to love him.

Prussia pulled the 'toque' off and ruffled his hair affectionately. Canada scrunched his nose in protest and batted the offending hand away.

"I want pancakes," Prussia explained, eloquent in his simplicity. Canada furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and frowned.

Prussia rolled his eyes in lighthearted frustration and leaned forward to whisper against his ear.

"I. Want. _Pancakes_."

His eyes widened in understanding as a devious smile graced his features. 'Pancakes' had been their code word for sex for a couple of decades, whereas 'maple' was their safeword. It had led to a couple of misunderstandings amongst the nations, what with Prussia begging for pancakes or Canada muttering 'maple' under his breath, but neither had done anything to correct the misconceptions. It was probably better this way.

"Pancakes, eh?" Canada asked slyly.

"Yessir."

Prussia loosened his hold on Canada and let him step away with the fiddle, flushed and smiling. Prussia pointed to the instrument.

"I almost forgot… What were you playing before I surprised you? It sounded familiar."

Canada paused and thought for a moment before answering.

"Ah, that was the 'Red River Jig'. I've played it for you before, a long time ago."

"I liked it! It was awesome!"

Canada chuckled and shook his head.

"That's exactly what you said last time."

"That's because I'm awesome, and I never lie. Take a compliment… Take it like a man!"

Canada stuck out his tongue and shook his head again.

"Take it, bitch!"

Canada laughed outright this time and pushed Prussia into the snow. Prussia spluttered and flailed, creating a snow angel in the process, before forming a snowball and clipping Canada on the shoulder with it. Canada growled, but he was still smiling.

"You're a pain in my ass, you know that, right?" He grumbled as he brushed the powdered snow off of his jacket with his free hand.

"Literally!" Prussia crowed. Canada snickered and pressed his heel into Prussia's chest to push him back into the snow and put him in his place.

"You wish."

Prussia shrugged and winked mischievously. Canada considered leaving him in the snow, but decided to help him up and dust him off.

Prussia wrapped his arms around Canada and kissed the tip of his nose playfully. Canada grimaced slightly, but grabbed his chilled hand and led him towards the cottage as Prussia nattered and trailed along behind him.

"You should play me another song. Inside, I mean. It's freezing outside."

Canada paused and turned to cock an eyebrow.

"Before or after 'pancakes'.

"Before, after, during. All of the above."

Canada smirked as he unlocked the door and stepped through the threshold, twisting to place a trail of small kisses along his jaw line.

"I could play 'Maple Sugar' for you?"

Prussia leered hungrily, easily recognizing the obvious flirting and the teasing tone of his voice.

"Yes, please," he whispered seductively as he kicked the door closed behind them.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

_You will notice that I never seem to write sex scenes. Get used to that. First of all, I am not a peeping tom. Secondly, and most importantly, I would never be able to do it justice. Your imaginations are much more capable, I'm sure. ;)_

_Crooked fiddling is a term referring to the offhand and highly asymmetrical phrasing of Metis and French Canadian fiddling. Notes are dropped in one bar, and may appear spontaneously in another. The metre can be difficult to follow; it is a very specific style of music. Fiddling was the primary medium of dance music in rural Canada until very recently. The two jigs mentioned here are the Red River Jig, originating in the Red River and Selkirk settlements of Manitoba, and Maple Sugar, a French Canadian favourite. As for a 'fiddle' versus a 'violin'; it is considered to be the same instrument, but it is generally referred to as a fiddle when used to play folk music and a violin when used to play classical music._

_I refer to Canada as a youth, because quite honestly, he would be. If America's official 'age'/'appearance' is listed as nineteen and if Canada were his twin, as he is often considered, then he would also be nineteen. And I would consider that to be a youth. As for the meaning of 'safeword', ask your parents. No, wait, that would probably be a bad idea... 'Safeword' is a term referring to codewords often used in BDSM to communicate the end of a scene, in order to keep the acts consensual and safe, and are agreed upon prior to the beginning of the scene. The term has become a little broader in mainstream culture, but the basic meaning of 'stop' is still relevant. If you do not know what BDSM is... Well, I cannot help you. That way lays madness. If you have any questions, drop me a line, and I will try to answer them with limited damage to both our minds._

_Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. Feel free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind, just please let me know what you think of this story._


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